


the sun in all its forms

by okayantigone



Series: paradigm shift - akatsuki!jiraiya AU [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Jiraiya AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: "jiraiya isn't coming back, and neither is tsunade, but it's me you choose to banish! me - the only one who stayed back, when all i have been trying to do is protect this village - "orochimaru does not raise his voice. his hands are shaking, but he balls them into fists. when he speaks next, his voice is calm and level. "very well, sandaime-sama. if those are your wishes."konoha had turned its back on him, had failed to protect him. shouldn't he fail to protect it in return? coming back to those same sun-dappled streets, and close-minded villagers should have been a simple occasion of meeting with the hokage, depositing the latest batch of orphans he'd accidentally adopted on his doorstep, and then leaving again. best laid plans, and all that.or the one where jiraiya is the missing nin in charge of the akatsuki, and orochimaru is the travelling spy, with a knack for adopting every single sad-looking child he comes across.





	1. return to konoha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hongmunmu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongmunmu/gifts).



> hongmunmu's art is the best, most beautiful thing in the world, and their orochimaru inspires me to no end, so of course, i am now writing akatsuki!jiraiya, except it's more of a good!orochimaru type au. except he still does human experimentation, and raises the dead, but you know he's on.... our side this time. more or less. and of course, he becomes naruto's sensei, and naruto learns to do the creepy tongue thing.

chapter 1: return to konoha

 

the sun dapples a graceful pattern on the road splayed ahead of them. orochimaru-sama is looking straight ahead, his handsome face in its usual neutrally pleasant expression, his graceful hands folded in the long sleeves of his beautifully patterned kimono. he keeps a slow and steady pace, one kimimaro can keep up with without exerting himself. the other four are scattered in the trees around them. it’s not that orochimaru-sama needs the protection. it’s that he plans on entering them in the next chuunin exam in suna, and they need the experience of running a guard mission.

 

“are you… happy?” kimimaru asks quietly, carefully.  
  
orochimaru-sama tilts his head down to face him, his smile brightening ever so slightly. under his eyes, kimimaro feels special. loved.  “hm?”

 

“to be going back,” kimimaro clarifies. “konoha is your home, isn’t it?”

 

orochimaru-sama seems to consider that for a while. kimimaro thinks he won’t get an answer at all. the village gates loom over them, wide open, and inviting. a silent show of power, that the citizens of konoha don’t fear anything that can come through. those gates had been slammed shut in his face a very long time ago. he had never wanted to come back.

 

but duty calls when it calls.

 

“i suppose i am,” he says finally, in answer to kimimaro’s question.

 

tayuya, jirobo, kidomaro, and the twins land swiftly beside him in formation, their eyes hard and suspicious, darting around. tayuya sticks her tongue out at the gate chuunin while orochimaru produces their travel papers from the folds of his silks. he presents them with a graceful flourish, and then smacks her on the back of the head.

 

“be polite,” he warns kindly, leaking killer intent, and turns his smile to the shinobi inspecting their documents. “i apologize for my student.”

 

the youngster does a double-take, mouth falling open, and the one seated next to him scrambles off his chair.

 

“o-orochimaru-sama! don’t – don’t worry about it! welcome back!”

 

they fall over themselves to bow to him. he remembers them vaguely from his ANBU days. he wonders if they ever got that promotion, and the masks, and all the blood that comes with it, and finds himself hoping that they didn’t.

 

“izumo-kun, kotetsu-kun,” he nods to them in greeting. “i have urgent business with the sandaime. please let him know i have arrived. he knows where to find me.”

 

he will be damned if he steps in sarutobi’s office. his kindness does not extend that far. he digs his fingers in kimimaro’s shoulders, and steers him in the direction of the main road to the village, before he can get lost. he understands the gawking, somewhat. konoha is magnificent, and it still manages to take his breath away. some days, he wishes he could level it.

 

he notes tayuya’s adamant attempt to not be completely blindsided by the colorful wealth of impressions. rice country is beautiful, and rich in its own way, but it is a small country, with small cities, and small villages. it does not compare to this. the twins have abandoned all pretense of guarding him, distracted by the noise and the people – there’s even more to look at, with the chuunin exams in full swing.  
  
the village has grown in peace time. he wished he’d been there to see it. wished he’d been responsible for some of that beauty. well.

 

“alright,” he speaks up. “from now on, i don’t need security.” he reaches for his coin purse and dispenses heft sums in their waiting hands. no child in his care will ever want for anything, least of all these children. if only jiraiya could see him now.

 

“consider this your mission payment,” he gives them a secretive little smile. “dismissed.”

 

he doesn’t really need to say anything else. he looks at the violet sashes that denote them as his, until even his keen eye loses them in the crouds. kimimaro is looking after them too, but when he catches the eye of his master on himself, he casts his face downwards.

 

“you will have time to explore later, kimimaro-kun. let’s get you to the hospital first, alright?”

 

“yes, orochimaru-sama.”

 

he studies the boy for a moment, and finds it in himself to be indulgent. “shall we take the rooftop route?”  
  
he isn’t sure he feels up to dealing with the mixed blessing of the villagers’ eyes on him so early on. kimimaro’s eyes brighten. he’s been good at following orochimaru’s rules about not exerting himself, and he jumps at the opportunity – quite literally. they move in a blur over the rooftops that orochimaru knows well.

 

like any seasoned shinobi orochimaru has his own opinions about the hospital. that was always tsunade’s domain, and despite his research and training into medical ninjutsu, his trade is always going to be that of a necromancer, and his kingdom is the morgue. somehow, kabuto is expecting them.

 

or maybe he isn’t, and this is just lucky timing, on his part. he is talking to the head nurse about rotations. then he stops mid-sentence, fixates orochimaru, and then _runs_ at him.

orochimaru barely has time to brace for impact, before he finds himself with arms full of an excited teenager, hugging him so tight, he’s preactically rearranging his bone structure.

 

he returns the hug, albeit awkwardly, wrapping his arms loosely around kabuto’s shoulders.  
  
“there, there, kabuto-kun,” he says placatingly, patting him on the head.

 

the young medic finally lets go, and steps back. he’s not crying, which is a massive improvement since the last time he reunited with his old sensei. kimimaro isn’t trying to kill him with a look. he _isn’t_.

 

“ah, kabuto-kun, would you mind taking care of kimimaro-kun for me? i’ve done the best i could, but – “

 

“so this is the one you’ve been writing to me about?” kabuto’s eyes gleam with the same unhealthy curiosity orochimaru always valued in his students. a keen mind, after all, is the best gift of a shinobi. he grabs kimimaro’s arm a bit too eagerly, but orochimaru is fairly certain, that since kabuto was allowed to take the konoha medic oath, that he hasn’t gotten to the stage of vivisecting patients.  so it will be fine. probably.

 

he lets them walk off, kabuto already rattling off questions faster than kimimaro can answer them. orochimaru decides to brave the streets this time. he can’t hide around rooftops forever, and anyway, that’s anbu’s domain, and he isn’t sure he’s ready to meet anko-chan just yet, and make away with all his limbs attached.

 

he walks deliberately slowly, hands hidden in his sleeves, keenly aware that the hem of his kimono is sweeping all the dust in the world. the black silk, embroidered with golden and violet serpents, and the dark purple obi are a bit much – maybe – certainly impractical for the average shinobi, but orochimaru has always favored his beautiful things, and he doesn’t expect to have to fight here anyway. not any fight he couldn’t end quickly, at least.

 

the yamanaka flower shop is – well. flowering. it looks bigger, and better-kept than he remembers it. the bell chimes sweetly when he comes in, and he casts his eye over the colorful displays of flowers, arranged by tender meaning. boquets that spell out _i love you a lot,_ and _let’s be together forever._

 

the girl behind the counter looks bored and half-asleep, but her whole demeanor changes when she lays eyes on him.

 

ino perks up when the doorbell chimes, and she looks at the customer. she’s a beautiful tall women, dressed traditionally. long black hair is twisted elegantly with jeweled pins, and her face is beautifully symmetric.

 

“hello and welcome to the yamanaka flower shop, how can i help you?” she greets cheerfully.

 

this lady looks like a rich civilian with money to spend, and ino is going to _~~milk her dry~~ ,  _offer the best possible service.

 

“ah, hello,” says the lady. her voice is deep and a little raspy – the kind men allegedly find sexy. she is still looking around.

 

when she starts listing off flower names, ino is a little upset – she seems to know what she’s talking about and what she wants, so it’s hard for ino to offer her excellent customer service and knowledge of plants.

 

she’s asking for poisonous flowers only though – oleander, aconite, calla lilies, and plumerias. ino makes them into an arrangement.

 

“you’re inoichi’s child, aren’t you?” the client muses while she waits.

 

“huh? you know my dad?” ino raises an eyebrow.

 

“a little bit,” the woman allows, and lapses into silence. her presence is distinctly more unsettling after that. ino flinches, when they brush hands as she hands over the flowers.

 

_she’s so cold. like a corpse._

the doorbell chimes again as the door shuts quietly.

 

“he says you’ll know where to find him,” kotetsu had said.

 

sarutobi makes his way through the thick foliage that surrounds the konoha cemetery.  
orochimaru is on his knees in front of his parents’ headstone, folded in a bow, his forehead flat to the ground. the grave is well-tended to, despite orochimaru’s absence from the village. sarutobi watches him slowly straighten up, and run his hands through the creases in his clothing. he leaves white flowers by the cracked, aged stone, and then moves to repeat the same further down the lines, with dan and nawaki.

 

he lays his palm against nawaki’s name. sarutobi emerges from where he’s been – not hiding, but observing, certainly- and walks slowly towards his former student, keeping his approach deliberate, and unassuming.

 

he hears orochimaru softly promise to visit the senju compound and light incense at the shrine, and then the softness from him disappears, and when he turns to look at his sensei, his face is cold, and impassive, mouth upturned cruelly.

 

he bows. low, and stiff. “sandaime-sama,” he greets formally.

 

unlike jiraiya and tsunade’s proficiency for profanities, orochimaru always had the skill to pack all his intent into a single word, and make it sound like the foulest thing in the world.

 

“orochimaru-kun. it’s been a while,” sarutobi offers cautiously.

 

“you’ve got anbu with you. why?” orochimaru seems bemused.

 

“it would be foolish to approach you without – “

 

“you don’t trust me not to cut you down over my loved ones’ graves?”

 

if orochimaru is going to be insolent, sarutobi will not indulge him. “i do not.” he says flatly. “but whose fault is that?”

 

for a moment, he is left unable to move, the air thick with orochimaru’s killing intent. he had forgotten, what this one was capable of. why he had been his favorite, once. just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and he can breathe again.

 

“i did not come back to try to defend myself, when i know that you will merely take my words, and twist them as an excuse to further turn your back on me. i am tired of playing this game with you sensei.”

 

“then why did you come back?”

 

“i believe it is time my long term diplomatic deployment ended.”

 

sarutobi arches an eyebrow. orochimaru had sworn to not set foot back in konoha.

 

_you failed to protect me. and now i will fail to protect you in return, his student had hissed, his eyes so, so cold, his voice full of malice. but sarutobi could not – would not – in good faith – encourage this – abominable behavior. and whatever orochimaru had said – and sarutobi had wanted to believe him when he said it – there was simply no proof of danzo’s involvement, and the council had wanted a scapegoat, and wanted one now._

“oh?”

 

“sand is about to betray your fickle alliance.” orochimaru always had a way of dropping onformation carelessly and flatly like it didn’t concern him. that’s why he and jiraiya never got along. the bluntness startles sarutobi.

 

“when?”

 

“during the exam, probably. the kazekage was trying to get a feel of where i stand in all this, during his last state visit to rice.”  
  
“and i hope you told him that you are a loyal shinobi of konoha who will never betray his motherland?” sarutobi is glad he brought his guards.

 

“i told him i hope he has some strong allies backing him up, if he hopes to stand a chance of defeating you,” orochimaru says quietly. the careful lack of a denial spells it all too quickly – he had considered it. sarutobi wonders when things got so wrong with them.

 

“but now you’re back?”

 

“for the exams. yes. let him see that there is still one loyal sannin left in konoha. let everyone see.”

 

“two sannin,” sarutobi corrects automatically. tsunade is still loyal.

 

“allegedly.” orochimaru says mildly. “good thing you never banished me publically, or this whole mess would be a whole lot more awkward, don’t you agree?”

 

“orochimaru – “

 

“you’re getting along in age, sandaime-sama. have you picked a successor?”

 

“no.” _and it wouldn’t be you anyway._

“still waiting for my research to bear fruits?” orochimaru asks, with a glint in his eyes. so he had continued then, those inhuman experiments. “it’s the only way you’ll get to keep the hat out of danzo’s clutches, you know.”

 

it’s not a pretty prospect, but orochimaru isn’t wrong.

 

“i suppose i should let them know to put in a place for you in my stand,” sarutobi says, in lieu of answering.

 

orochimaru can’t hide the brief widening of his eyes, and it occurs to sarutobi that he had expected to be turned away, as soon as he’d delivered his news.

 

“i suppose you should,” he says agreeably, and turns his back on his teacher. sarutobi watches his tall figure make way gracefully between the graves, and silently thanks the stars that orochimaru is still – loosely – on his side.


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation with Sarutobi leaves him unsettled, as they are wont to often do. The old familiar anger simmers beneath his foreign skin. A pervasive sense of unfairness that would have made him cry in his younger years. 

He casts a longing look to the expanse of graves ahead of him. He is tempted to look through the names, and find the ones he knows. He has always had a talent for self-flagellation. 

Instead, he makes his way through the tall overgrown grass, and steps onto the dusty road, blending himself smoothly in the traffic of colorful civillians and dull-toned shinobi. 

The Leaf village is larger than life around him, big and warm, the only home his aching heart has ever truly known, and he paces its familiar streets with want tattooed on his bones. He has shed his flesh and skin so many times, but the want has always persevered, and a part of him, perversely, relishes the pain. 

He makes his way to the one places he has always felt unquestioningly welcome, carefully raising the flaps of the ramen stand with one elegant pale hand, as he ducks under and takes a seat closest to the wall. It’s always easier to be in the corner. 

“Orochimaru-sama,” Teuchi greets, and his smile hides no lies. He is merely happy to see him. He is merely greeting a long-time customer and friend. Orochimaru feels more human than monster when he swallows mouthful after mouthful of the house special, putting away neatly bowl after bowl. 

“Eat so hard your ears flap” was an expression Sarutobi-sensei had often used. Not for him. For the other one. He doesn’t want to think about it. He fills the gap with noodles. 

It’s not that he is unaware of his surroundings, so much as he makes a conscious choice to ignore the wet, miserable presence beside him. 

Training with Ebisu had been completely useless as usual, and Naruto tries not to feel too despondent about it. It doesn’t matter how hard he works, he’s just not getting the basics, and no one will tell him why, but he’s sure it’s not because he’s stupid – he’s working really hard on the theory, even if reading is a challenge, and he needs Iruka sensei to decipher the more complex words for him. 

He decides to reward himself for the hard work with a bowl of Ichiraku ramen. Money’s a bit tight now that he’s not running missions, since he’s preparing for the exams, but he figures he can splurge on one big filling meal a day, instead of bothering with breakfast and lunch. 

There’s someone sitting in the stand, which doesn’t happen often. Naruto feels bad – most people ignore Ichiraku’s since they know it’s where he goes to eat. 

It’s a tall pretty woman, and her clothes are obviously expensive. He’s rarely seen such ostentatious in-your-face wealth outside the merhcnat quarter, and he hasn’t gone there in a very long time since the last beating he got. 

There’s a neat pile of bowls in front of her. She extends graceful white arms to receive another from Ayame, tips her head back, and opens her mouth. And then he rmouth keeps opening. And opening. And opening. Her lower jaw unhinges with a crack, and she pours the ramen right down her thoat, hinges her jaw back up, smacks her lips once, and then sighs in satisfaction. She puts the bowl in the pile and gestures for another. 

“That’s gross,” Naruto says, awed, before he can stop himself. 

The woman turns to face him. Her eyes are an odd golden color, the shape narrow and snake-like, painted a deep purple, and her mouth is curved in a thin line of amusement. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says. He hasn’t been slapped yet, so he calls it a win. 

“What’s your name?” the woman asks. Her voice is soft and warm, kinda husky, like maybe she smokes a lot. 

“Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki.” he says bravely. The words about becoming Hokage die on his lips. Her eyes are just too mesmerizing. He has a moment to wonder if maybe she has a skill similar to Sasuke’s, but then the spell is broken. 

“I am Orochimaru. Of the Sannin,” the woman says. 

Feeling quite stupid, which really ins’t different from how he feels most days, Naruto says, “You’re a man?” 

Orochimaru laughs. It’s not an unpleasant sound. “Sometimes,” he allows. 

“What are you now?” Naruto asks, curiously, taking in his form. It’s not drag as such – it’s more that Orochimaru is wearing whatever the hell pleases him. Naruto wishes he had the money and nerve to be able to do that. 

“I’m not sure,” the self-titled sannin says. “But it’s fun to wake up every morning, and figure it out. Don’t you think?” 

Naruto has never thought about it that way. Sure, he doesn’t mind looking the way he does, but he also likes looking like his Sexy-Jutsu alter. 

“Sure,” he says agreeably. Orochimaru hasn’t insulted him, or said anything mean yet. He’s just being super weird and creepy, but after the crazy snake lady proctor from the Forest of Death, Naruto isn’t sure calling him out on it will be a good idea. Besides, it seems like a lot of older shinobi are being weird and creepy for shits and giggles. Take Kakashi-sensei for example. Which brings his next question. 

“Are you a shinobi?”

Orochimaru vows to find whoever was this kid’s instructor in the Academy and personally wring their neck with his own two hands. The clear lack of reaction was his first clue. Do they just not teach history anymore? The indignation is only part personal vanity. 

Then again, he won’t put it past sensei to have redacted everything about them from the textbooks. In another generation, no one will remember Jiraiya’s betrayal. Except for him. 

“Yes,” he says simply. “I was on a long mission. But I am back now.” 

“Oh,” says the child, and his blue eyes sparkle. Calling him “Uzumaki” won’t do shit for anyone who remembers Minato. In another five years, the kid’ll be a spitting image. What the hell was sensei thinking? “To watch the exams, right?” 

“Yes.” He’s curious where the conversation is going. 

“I’m going to be in it,” Naruto declares proudly. “Watch out for me. I’ll win the tournament. And then I’ll become Jonin. And then I’ll be Hokage.” 

He tries to tell himself it’s a bad idea. But he’s never been good at talking himself out of impulse decisions. Jiraiya was always the angel on his shoulder, and Jiraiya is gone, so there’s no one there to stop him when he says “You must be training really hard,” and wait for an answer, making all the appropriate sympathetic noises when Naruto tells him all about his careless sensei, and his new good-for-nothing instructor. 

He’s just about to make his offer – one he’s sure he’s bound to regret – however legendary, his patience is not infinite after all, when the blood-curdling screech of 

“Sensei, I am going to SLAUGHTER you,” followed by a volley of senbon, forces him to abandon all pretense of civility, and bid Naruto a hasty goodbye. 

“Anko, not in the middle of lunch!” he snarls, and beats a hasty retreat to the rooftops to avoid property damage. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Naruto calls out after him, his voice full of careless childish laughter. Kami help me, he thinks. I’m about to fail another one.


End file.
